Populus Zion (Advent 2 2025)

Text: Luke 21:34 “34 “But watch yourselves lest your hearts be weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and cares of this life, and that day come upon you suddenly like a trap.”

The Day is coming.

And it is coming very soon.

Jesus tells you how to recognize it.

He says, “Look at the fig tree.”

When its leaves come out, you know that summer is near.

It is not mysterious.

It is not complicated.

You simply recognize what is right before your eyes.

And the same is true now.

You see the signs all around you—

the hostility, the confusion, the weariness,

the way people become scattered, anxious, and overwhelmed.

“When you see these things,” Jesus says,

“you know that the kingdom of God is near.”

And because the kingdom is near—

because the Day is closer now than ever—

you must be ready for it.

The only foundation for that readiness is repentance and faith.

Turn from sin.

Turn from unbelief.

Turn from the false refuges that cannot save you.

Believe the Gospel.

The Judge who will appear on that Day

is the very One who has already suffered and died for you.

He bore your judgment.

He carried your sin.

He has secured your redemption.

Because of Him, you need not fear His appearing.

Your Redeemer is the One who comes.

And because He is the One who comes,

the signs themselves need not terrify you.

They are not random.

They are not the world spinning out of control.

They are Christ’s signs.

They belong to the One who sends them.

And because they belong to Christ,

His people do not fear them.

With that confidence beneath your feet,

Jesus now turns your eyes somewhere else—

not to the sky,

not to the nations,

but to your heart.

“Take heed to yourselves,” He says,

“lest your hearts be weighed down

with dissipation and drunkenness and the cares of this life.”

And here is the truth:

The real danger is not out there.

It is not the state of the world.

It is not the storms, not the nations, not the headlines.

The real danger is a heart that has drifted into sleep.

What does that look like?

Dissipation is the scattering of the heart—

a life so full of distraction, noise, and busyness

that prayer becomes difficult,

and the mind can no longer settle on Christ.

A heart stretched thin

until nothing eternal can take root.

Drunkenness is not only wine—

but anything that dulls the conscience

and numbs spiritual perception.

Anything that keeps you from seeing what is right before your eyes.

Anything that gives momentary relief

while slowly putting your soul to sleep.

And the cares of this life—

the worries, the stress, the relentless anxieties—

these weigh the heart down

until it sinks beneath the surface

and can no longer rise to meet Christ with joy.

A heart can become scattered.

It can become numb.

It can become buried.

And a heart in that condition

cannot watch,

cannot pray,

cannot stand.

Jesus does not speak these words to frighten you.

He speaks them because He wants you awake.

He wants you clear-headed.

He wants you ready to stand

on the Day of His appearing.

“Stay awake,” He says.

“Praying at all times,

that you may have strength to stand before the Son of Man.”

And He Himself provides what He commands.

You do not keep yourself awake

by resolve or effort.

The Lord keeps you awake through His gifts.

The Scriptures teach you endurance.

Prayer lifts your heart toward God.

Baptism anchors you in Christ

when everything shakes.

The Holy Supper strengthens you

and fixes your eyes

on the Redeemer who is coming.

Through these means, Christ Himself

keeps your heart awake.

And in the months ahead,

we will be returning together

to some of the ancient Christian practices

that help guard the heart in exactly this way—

daily Scripture,

regular prayer,

sobriety and simplicity,

and intentional encouragement from one another.

Not as a program.

Not as self-improvement.

But as a way of living

the vigilance Jesus commands in today’s Gospel.

These rhythms do not save you—

Christ has done that.

But they keep your heart attentive to Him,

clear in a noisy world,

steadfast in a weary time,

and ready for His appearing.

But there is one more turn Jesus would have you make—

one more way He directs your eyes.

When your heart is awake in Christ,

you do not only see the signs of the times,

and you do not only see the dangers in your own heart.

You begin to see your neighbor again.

The hostility we lament,

the confusion and weariness we see in our communities,

the anxiety that weighs families down—

these are not reasons to withdraw.

They are the very reasons Christ calls you to live awake.

Romans 15 says,

“We who are strong have an obligation

to bear with the failings of the weak.”

“Let each of us please his neighbor for his good,

to build him up.”

“Welcome one another

as Christ has welcomed you.”

A watchful heart becomes a welcoming heart.

A heart rooted in Christ becomes a steady place for another.

A heart lifted by hope becomes a shelter for the anxious.

A heart kept awake by the Word

becomes a source of encouragement for the weary.

This is not fear.

This is not retreat.

This is Christian vigilance—

alert to Christ,

anchored in Christ,

and attentive to those He has placed beside you.

So watch your heart.

Not only so that you may stand before the Son of Man,

but so that you may stand beside your neighbor

with patience,

with mercy,

with endurance,

with hope—

the very things Romans 15 says

the Scriptures are given to create in you.

The Day is coming.

The kingdom is near.

And you belong to the One who is coming.

Therefore watch your heart—

and watch for your neighbor.

Stay awake in His Word.

Stay rooted in His grace.

Stand ready to build up the weak,

to comfort the fearful,

to welcome the lonely,

to lift up the weary.

Watch your heart—

for the Lord is near.

And He has given you neighbors to love until He comes.